


Rosey

by Solar_Sylvilagus



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Asthma, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, No Beta, my brain's also stuck in drabble mode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 00:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20165461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solar_Sylvilagus/pseuds/Solar_Sylvilagus
Summary: Roses. They shouldn't be here.Even still, there they sat, bobbing under the weight of heavy dewdrops. Taunting.





	Rosey

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Consistent writing style? Plot? Coherence? We don't speak of those.

It wasn't right. The soft, soft patter of rain let up and the roses had unfurled into full, wild blooms. Roses. They shouldn't be here.

Even still, there they sat, bobbing under the weight of heavy dewdrops. Taunting.

Maxwell drove the heel of his shoe down onto it, grinding bright red petals into the grass. Heavy rainclouds rumbled above. He grabbed his umbrella.

* * *

A truly miserable spring, one that had so far been spent soaked to the bone and trying to coax warmth back into frozen fingers. Sticky sweet juices from a handful of rain pummeled berries did nothing to help that along, but with food still in short supply from the harsh winter, there was no complaining to be had.

Picking berry skins from his teeth and taking stock of his situation was interrupted as a butterfly emerged lazily from a half-drowned flower. A butterfly that was soon safely captured in a net, to be planted near the bee boxes at a later date.

* * *

A sick joke. It had to be. The moment the butterfly was planted, a rose had unfurled from the earth. Paying little heed to the way the thorns dug past his gloves and into his palms, he ripped it from the ground, tearing the blossom from the stem and violently scattering the petals to the wind. Fury that drained as soon as it had overtaken him, and Maxwell held the ravaged, thorny stem for a few moments, and watched blood bead at his fingertips.

* * *

This time, he sat. Cradling the blossom in a free hand. He'd seen more and more of them as of late, and rage and turned into weary resignation. Perhaps he deserved it.

* * *

Rose perfume choked him, and when he coughed he tasted copper. Caught without a light, the last thing he had expected was her sweet voice, curling around him. Rose perfume and prickling thorns rather than an abrupt and gorey end. Softly, softly, even as he choked on a lack of air, so as not to harm the roses blossoming beneath him as he fell, gasping. Her hair tickled his cheek as the vines grew and she flashed a smile as his face colored and he scrabbled at the ground, pushing himself upwards, desperate for air.

And then there was light. 


End file.
